


The Ghosts of Ceres

by notgothicc



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Horror, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Gen, M/M, Magic, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Siblings, Supernatural Elements, basically just exaggerated spooky cats, how the hell do i tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notgothicc/pseuds/notgothicc
Summary: Demeter is captured by Macavity, only to be released under mysterious circumstances a week later. Confused and terrified, she finds herself tumbling back into the Junkyard during preparations for the annual Jellicle Ball. In an attempt to salvage some semblance of normalcy, Demeter slowly but surely rejoins the Jellicles' day-to-day affairs. But in time, she comes to realize that things are not quite as she'd left them...
Relationships: Alonzo/Cassandra (Cats), Bombalurina & Demeter (Cats), Demeter & Jemima (Cats), Demeter/Munkustrap (Cats), Jellylorum & Jennyanydots, Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger (Cats), Plato/Victoria (Cats), Pouncival & Tumblebrutus (Cats)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 21





	1. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:**  
>  If you heavily rely on content/trigger warnings, please read something else! <3
> 
> While nothing in this fic is overly gross, gory, sexual, etc., many elements may be uncomfortable or allude to uncomfortable subject matters! Horror is supposed to be spooky and scary, but I don't want to get sued. Or whatever. Anyway, have fun.

It was a mere pitter-patter of feet on concrete that roused her, that unmistakable scuff of impatient paws against dirtied pavement which dared jostle her from her moonlit drowse. She scrambled to stand without thought, shaking out her grimy fur and blinking back a haze of exhaustion. No longer did she possess the inalienable privilege of dreams warmed by the hearth-fire rays of the sun, nor of sleep so fathomless her entire consciousness suspended itself in some faraway abyss. That was before. She stood now at attention, every muscle bunched, claws unsheathed, and poised to pounce. Her bared fangs flashed under the street lamp’s glow. And each risen hair on her spine quivered like a newborn kitten’s. But the sound ceased just before the mouth of her makeshift den. Scraping, scratching in place. Incessant, until it stopped altogether. _He_ did not approach. She could not see the presence, she couldn't discern even its scent. It was gone. Or perhaps it was never there, to begin with.

The den remained occupied for several arduous moments until a curious nose poked its way out. Then, one golden paw. Then another, and once her olfactory sense determined a lack of any fresh scent at all, the rest of her golden-tabby figure followed. She made her way to the center of the clearing, what little of it there truly was. They were gone. All gone. _His_ congregate of dastardly strays and disillusioned Jellicles, and even _he himself_ had vanished as if whisked away by a chilly breeze. She peered around overgrown brush and scanned the nooks and crannies of the ancient human shack, wringing her paws at the whiff of each notable scent. But, she came up short. There was no one here: an apparent fact she grew adamant of reminding herself as she drew ever nearer to the clearing’s only viable exit. Her gait was cautious and shaking, her feet prepared to leap into a mad dash for home at the drop of a leaf. 

_Home_.

The word rang like klaxons in her head. Doubtless, her human was sick with worry at her extended absence. Her human’s home was warm in the winters and warmer in the summers, and the young lady occupying it had a heart even warmer than both combined. Poor girl. How ever would she make do without her feline companion? Nevertheless, she noted with some anticipation, the Junkyard was her home beyond home. Weaving in and out of railings and brick structures, slipping past the occasional human or Pollicle, she feigned grace in making her way back. It was in the Junkyard she first opened her eyes to the London sky, and it was from just outside it she was confiscated in the middle of the night. There was hardly a thing the other Jellicles could’ve done, for while she’d been swiped, those who spent their nights in and around it were still fast asleep. She saw a lot more of Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer after that. _‘Oi, don’t look so glum, Demeter!'_ Teazer had whispered with a nudge to her ribs. _‘Yeah, we’ll find a way to getcha outta here,'_ assured Jerrie. The chaos twins had been all smiles for a while, clearly convinced they had a genius scheme in the works. She had placed all her remaining hope in them, too. Hope, that maybe their cunning would wrench her out of _his_ suffocating snare. A week had gone by. The last of them she’d witnessed was in the clearing, one gesturing wildly at the other---arguing, no doubt. That was before she was granted _his_ permission to settle for the evening. Now, they were gone. She wondered, as she at last crossed into familiar territory, if they too, had left her behind.

The silence was tangible in the haze. An unusual occurrence it was, that she could not make out her own paws in front of her eyes. It turned her blood to ice. Her heart was thumping and riotous in her ears. She trudged on by scent alone, just halfway entertaining the pit of anxiety once more making itself comfortable in her gut. By only a narrow margin she avoided tripping over a heap of downed tree branches. She’d sworn they hadn’t been there a moment ago. Nevertheless, it was hardly any longer before she heard voices just ahead, a conversation. Or several. Distant voices, small and big, lacking bodies or faces. Her tail puffed to its fullest and a prayer to the Everlasting Cat above crossed her trembling lips. _Let this not be a ruse_ , her thoughts screeched. She was stalking nearer, feet inaudible against the gravel. No sooner had she taken note of the dissipating fog, the golden tabby felt two paws knock forcibly into her back and was sent scrabbling down into the Junkyard. She crashed to the ground in a storm of clattering metal and stone. Her tail lashing, she stood at once, damning to hell the brand new ache in her shoulder. A smattering of colorful cats stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. She stared back, searching each of their faces. 

“Demeter!” came a familiar squeak.

She whirled to face the red kitten whose big, effervescent grin just about gave her in to hysterics.

She was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've gotten this far, thank you! This is my first ever fanfic, something I wrote to take a break from the monotony of novella writing. Feel free to drag me in the comments, or check out my art Tumblr: @not-gothicc-art!


	2. Home, Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an eerie mystery comes to light...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:**  
>  If you heavily rely on content/trigger warnings, please read something else! <3
> 
> While nothing in this fic is overly gross, gory, sexual, etc., many elements may be uncomfortable or allude to uncomfortable subject matters! Horror is supposed to be spooky and scary, but I don't want to get sued. Or whatever. Anyway, have fun!

“She’s returned!”

“Are we sure it’s really Demeter?”

“She smells of the sewer…”

“Demeter’s back!”

It was a melodious chorus of voices. Demeter felt her cheeks go warm and, within a moment, she was beaming down at her little Jemima. The kitten's nose brushed her mother's own and with a stunned sort of wordlessness, Demeter turned her gaze to the rest of the Junkyard. Home. It was wonderful. Sparkling sunlight was just beginning to poke through the clouds, and the mist of earlier had long cleared. A breeze mussed her grimy fur and sent a shiver up her back, but she scarcely minded. She was back in the Junkyard at last, amongst those she proudly called her family.

“It seems you came back to us,” a voice at her side trilled.

“Alonzo! I don't believe I've ever been so thankful to see your friendly face,” she greeted with a courteous smile.

The black-and-white tom stood stiff as bricks beside Demeter, hardly acknowledging her relief with anything more than a glance. Rather, he cast his listless gaze over the crowd creeping in around her. Alonzo was not in the least bit impressed. She watched with growing bewilderment as the spark in his saffron eyes ignited into a fiery warning. And like that, in pairs and trios, the small huddle of cats dissipated. Jemima was the last to go, waving a farewell before bouncing off toward the old, rusty, trunk of the car. 

"Forgive their milling about. We've been fleshing out a last-minute performance in Old Deuteronomy's honor, you see, and we, um-" Alonzo was suddenly explaining, running an absent paw over the spikes of his collar. "With you gone and Macavity on the prowl, morale has been wearing thin. Munkustrap and I just can't afford to waste any more time. You ought to rest, then join us all in the morning." 

Demeter flinched at the mention of _his_ name. _Macavity_. Alonzo said it so easily as if it were nothing at all. Just the thought alone sent a pang of nausea piercing through her gut. 

"Of course…" agreed Demeter, hopeful her disruptive entrance had not trampled too harshly over the tom's pride. "You know, I'm quite sorry I wandered out at all." 

"I imagine you are." 

"Have you seen him?" she asked. "Munkustrap, I mean. I was hoping to see him before late if he's not too occupied." 

"I have not." 

An abrupt silence passed over them, one that dropped rocks in her stomach and made her feet fidget. Demeter wondered---rising from the ground with a nod and a sudden urge to seek out her mate---whether Alonzo blamed her for what her captor had done. 

  


Demeter made her way with leaden steps to the very first place she knew she'd find her better half. When they'd become inseparable, it hadn't required a detective's intuition to discover this place. It was where the Protector stole off to reorganize his hyperactive train of thoughts. To brood, she always teased. Just behind the massive tire: a corner of the Junkyard often untouched by sunlight or warmth. Her anxieties over his brooding grew less and less over the moons, resurfaced only by the darkest of moments. This was one such rare moment. No secret was it he didn't turn up to investigate the avalanche marking her unprecedented return. Such was wildly uncharacteristic of the Protector. 

Demeter sighed, trudging past all kinds of rusted human things. The innards of cars, pipes, hulking stoves and Everlasting knows what else. She held her ears alert, swiveling, each muscle tensed to flee at the first sight of any threat. Of _him,_ her thoughts justified. She stopped in her tracks by the tire. Sniffing the air, searching. From the heaps of junk to her rear, she overheard a rustle. And froze. 

"Hello?" the queen called, her meow developing a terrible tremble. 

Nothing. As quickly as her heart had skipped a beat, the sound ceased altogether. A rat, she wanted to believe, but her snowballing nerves signaled otherwise. Without so much as a parting glance around, Demeter turned on her heel to make a mad dash out of the dark---crashing headfirst into a tall mess of silvery fur. 

"Demeter!" 

"Just what d-" 

And then she stopped, widened stare settling on the face of the tom whose throat she'd been willing to claw just a second ago. 

"Munkustrap! I'm so sorry, I-" she sputtered, relaxing into the gentle hold he had on her forearms. "I almost worried you were too busy for me. Surely, someone mentioned I've made it back?" 

Munkustrap shook his striped head. 

"No. No, not at all," he said. "I fretted that the commotion was yet another of the kittens' antics." 

She cocked her head, meeting his dull eyes with questioning in her own. 

"Then…why weren't you out there with the others? You could've known I came back! I've missed you, you goof." 

"I missed you too. But, I've just been tired, Demeter. Nothing I tell these cats will convince them to follow stage direction. And my brother is of no help. I would suffocate him with those insufferable bagpipes myself if I could," he lamented, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Demeter sat the both of them down atop a nearby workman's bench, taking his paw from his face. The stress of his duties alone appeared to have landed him one foot in the grave. His features were dark with the remains of sleepless nights and sharpened by premature age. Demeter dared not ask of how he fared amid her absence, nor of the patches of bare skin dappling his once-pristine coat. A few looked to be dried over with clotted blood. 

"Tell me," she said. "I want to think about someone else's problems for a change." 

He couldn't bring himself to look at her, instead laser-focused on the ground below. She watched something like remorse cross his expression before he finally spoke. 

"Do you ever hear in your head a little voice telling you what is and what isn't? The one that dictates your feelings and morals?" 

"Most cats do. But I know a few who think in pictures," shrugged the queen, nodding. 

Her half-hearted chuckle came as an afterthought. 

"Well, have you ever heard a voice that…isn't quite your own?" 

"I- No, I don't think so. Love, what're you getting at?" 

"After they took you, that's when it began. I can rarely tell what it's saying. It's so small and sweet, like a kitten. And so shy. Alonzo heard it, he said. Tantomile and Coricopat too, and poor Quaxo, and now all of us hear it. Unabating. It claims to be a messenger. But for whom? I don't believe I want to know." 

Munkustrap's words had taken on an uncanny tone. Assertive and, if she couldn't tell him from a Pollicle, angry. Like a twinge driven far deeper than a simple headache. An onslaught of dire possibilities upended her short-lived sense of relief, and she inched further and further back along the bench. Away from Munkustrap. 

"And if it were another of Macavity's elaborate doings?" she challenged. "Wouldn't you want to know?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vielen, vielen Dank for your time and appreciation! It warms my soulless, goth heart :)


	3. Blood of the Everlasting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Demeter's past pays her another visit; Jemima offers some insight...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:**  
>  If you heavily rely on content/trigger warnings, please read something else!
> 
> While nothing in this fic is overly gross, gory, sexual, etc., many elements may be uncomfortable or allude to uncomfortable subject matters! Horror is supposed to be spooky and scary, but I don't want to get sued. Or whatever. Anyway, have fun.
> 
> So, I lied. This chapter was not short, nor quick. Oops.

A chill had already long fallen when she woke to the sight of a pleasant face hovering but a claw's length above her. Ginger-and-white tufts blotted out the sky and a tiny pink nose poked into her own. Even through her groggy haze, Demeter could hardly suppress a grin. She was still here. Her home.

"Jemstone, please. What're you doing awake so late?" murmured Demeter, sitting up from her new spot in Jennyanydots's shared den. 

Jenny and Jellylorum kept the space tidy for new and nursing queens, and their kittens. The pair had practically thrust her and her offspring into their care. Overly doting as they were, she and her mate were eternally grateful. She looked around. There was still darkness blanketing the Junkyard, from what her sleep-smeared sight could tell---still night? She had hardly any memory of crashing here, hours prior. Much of it was spent curled up at Munkustrap's side, working to convince her restless mate that, yes, she was quite alright, and no, she didn't need anything. That he ought to stop bringing _him_ up and lay himself to rest, for once. Her ferocious case of the shakes did little to dissuade the uncertainty stitched into his frown.

Demeter learned how to fake a state of slumber. A skill that spared her life more than once, in ways quite unfathomable.

And that's precisely what had eased Munkustrap into his first full night of rest since her absence. While he snored, Demeter tip-toed her way out and into the moonlit Junkyard. Though most were gone to their human homes, something had spooked her on her way. Lights or, perhaps, sparks from a flame just overtop a junk heap. It sent her scurrying, breath heavy in her head. And somehow she'd made it to Jennyanydots's den in one piece, without taking another tumble over something---or someone. She hardly recalled settling beside her little one. The flames: an image that wrought tatty ginger fur and plagues of house fires into her dreams. She'd feared that _he_ had finally sniffed her out. And she battled for sleep until she could no longer bear it, and cried instead.

"Demeter? You okay?"

"Yes! I- oh. Yes, I'm fine."

Demeter shook the memory out of her head. Jemima giggled, sitting back to grant her some much-needed stretching room.

"I was just sayin' it's not late. It's before sunrise! But, can we play before you go 'n' help with the Ball stuff? Everybody's too busy and Jenny's not here yet," she whined, shifting on her paws from side to side.

Demeter couldn't help but peer over at a scuffed, red ball, lingering just beside the girl's seated rump. She truly hadn't a clue what became of her mother over the past several days, had she? Had not a soul broken the news to her? Not even the Protector himself? The implications twisted her insides sideways, but she didn't dare upset her peppy attitude.

"Jemima…" she sighed, sinking back into her bedding. "What about Pouncival and Tumblebrutus? You do say they're your best friends."

The kitten shrugged.

"Sure, but they're with their humans. I dunno, but they'll be here later! I'll hear them before I see 'em."

"What of Etcetera?" Demeter proposed.

"I told her Tugger was looking for her…"

She frowned and rested her chin in one paw.

"He wasn't?"

"No."

"I see…"

She couldn't have been angry at that even if she should have been. Etcetera, often referred to in good humor as the president of the Rum Tug Tugger's fan club, knew no limits to her obsessions. Worse yet, the very object himself provided the log and kerosene to her ever-raging flame. He tended the inferno he ignited, careful to remain just outside its eager grasp. Demeter knew not whether he was the cleverest idiot she'd ever met, or the other way around.

"Wouldn't Victoria and her brother play with you, if you asked?" Demeter inquired.

"Nuh-uh. Well, Victoria would. She likes me a lot, she says. But she's always around that stupid Plato anymore. She's always too busy to play 'cause she's always with _pretty-boy Plato._ " 

"Mm. And Quaxo?"

"I wish he talked more, but he won't. Not to me. I don't think he likes me," Jemima said with a groan. "Tugger got all mad once and said Quaxo doesn't mean it like that, that he's just different. I don't see how. He's a Jellicle like the rest of us."

"Tugger might be a tad overzealous, but he's right, you know. What about Electra?"

She pouted, her bottom lip stuck out in protest. In spite of Demeter's indubitably haggard state, the kitten wouldn't likely let up.

" _Alright_. Give me that."

Demeter snatched the ball out from behind her and tossed it outside.

"HEY!" she screeched, skittering after it.

Demeter followed at a distance, rubbing her still aching shoulder. Her human might've known how to heal it. But she couldn't go, not now. Demeter had obligations here. Of which one came bounding back to her, the red ball cradled in her arms and a grin dimpling her cheeks. Her smile consumed nearly half of her face.

"Catch!" the kitten giggled, aiming the ball (generally) at her chest. 

Their simplistic game of catch carried on for some time, only coming to delay when the first rays of dawn peeked over the city horizon and split through the cloud cover. Jemima was the one who insisted they watch it together. Demeter held the ball close with one paw and the kitten in her other. But, she could not bear to watch the bright ball of light in its quest to mark the start of the morning. Rather, her gaze was on Jemima. Her vivid coat had been set ablaze by the morning light, empyreal and dazzling. The sun brought forth a familiar touch of scarlet, like a suggestion of spilled blood. Or like fire, conjured from the hellish depths by the digits of that particularly terrible mystery cat so fondly gazing back at them. She bore far too much of _his_ resemblance for Demeter's liking; that color was so deeply branded into her skull. In such fleeting moments, she couldn't help but wonder if Munkustrap ever felt the same. 

"I'm really glad you're back," her little voice squeaked. "I kept telling everyone you'd be back for sure, but they didn't think so. Murad said to stop being...nay-eev."

"I'm happy to be back. But, naive? That's ridiculous."

"Yeah..."

Demeter hesitated a beat.

"The tribe has been under a lot of pressure since I was gone, hm?" she ventured.

"Yeah. But, it's okay! We're gonna figure it out, now that you're back."

After a short time she lowered her head, still staring at the girl.

"Are you okay, dear?"

Then, the kitten whirled around in a flash of red and white and, with a swift but short-lived scuffle of feet, ripped the ball from Demeter's hold. Demeter gasped, nearly stumbling over herself.

"Catch!"

No sooner had she regained her footing, came the ball whizzing past her. _Hard_. Jemima took off back toward Jenny's den and flew inside, giggling madly.

"Wait!" she called, racing after her.

Inside, it was a mess. As if some silent explosion had shaken the junk walls to their very foundation. It had overturned even her own bedding. Quite unlike anything most were capable of. Regardless of fault, Jenny was bound to be furious.

"Jem? Jemstone?"

Though light was at last spilling into each crevice of the Junkyard, the kitten was nowhere to be seen. As if she'd vanished into vapor. Demeter was dumbfounded. Had she truly lost it?

**_Up there_** , a sudden voice chimed in. **_Look up there_**. 

It was sweet, so angelic, and so small. It softened her, but for only an instance. Her fur rippled in a shudder, her gaze flitting about the den. It was vacant save for herself. Notwithstanding, she did as the voice commanded. And there was the little fluffball, clinging to some long bit of metal overhead.

"Jemima, what are you doing?! Why would you run off like that?" she demanded.

Silence. Just two big eyes zeroed in on Demeter. Like a deer caught stunned in the middle of the road... A feeling she was beginning to comprehend herself, she noted, chewing at the inside of her cheek.

"You don't jus-"

"Words are smoke and sound, and everything transitory," Jemima hissed in a tone far beyond her years, her gaze ballooning to viridescent globes, "is but only a fleeting image. You ought oblige yourself. Wake up!"

What had gotten into her? What was she talking about? Her wild look held Demeter fast in her stance, paralyzed. Demeter's claws dug holes into the dirt. She blinked once, and once again, and then her little girl was gone.

"Jemstone?" she tried, voice a meager whisper. "Where...where'd you run off to, now?"

But, she knew she was already gone and hadn't heard. Demeter counted many moments up to the one her legs finally carried her out of the den. A chill still tinged the fresh air. She stifled a sob. All around, the other Jellicles were going about their affairs. Prancing. Leaping. Some were singing, too, all wrapped up in their preparations for the Jellicle Ball. The ladies sounded lovely together, even her sister. She ought to have joined them. Peering over ears and between shoulders, Demeter searched, but the kitten with blood-red fur was not among them. Through her daze, she didn't realize her focus had fizzled out in another cat's vicinity. The little tuxedo waved in that polite way of his.

"I'm sorry, I-I don't mean to be rude. Hi, Quaxo," she managed to choke out. "Have you seen Jemima, by chance?"

There was a flash of thought in his heterochromatic eyes, and then, he shook his head. Demeter sighed.

"Thank you. You can tell Alonzo I'll be a little late."

And without sticking around to hear a fitting response, she scurried off. Demeter sensed Quaxo's curious gaze on her as she went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've gotten this far, thank you! All your feedback has been so uplifting :) And now that I'm off my little depression-hiatus, feel free to check out my art Tumblr: @not-gothicc-art!


End file.
